


By the Slice

by Crashdiamond



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Army!Bucky Barnes, Bucky hates sugar, CA:TFA, Captain America - Freeform, Fucked Up in the Head!Bucky Barnes, Headaches & Migraines, Hydra, Hydra (Marvel), Memory Loss, Memory flashbacks, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, PTSD, Post Captain America: Civil War, Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Teenage!Bucky Barnes, modern!Bucky Barnes, orange slices tbh, wholesome sibling relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 21:26:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19709770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crashdiamond/pseuds/Crashdiamond
Summary: Citrus fruits were always his favorite dessert. Was it for sentimental memories? Maybe just a personal preference? Maybe both.





	By the Slice

Citrus fruits were always his favorite dessert. Was it for sentimental memories? Maybe just a personal preference? Maybe both.

Sugar was always so scarce to find back in the 1940s, and even more so once James Buchanan Barnes and every other able-bodied young man in the states were shipped overseas. He had a vivid memory of his younger sister, Rebecca, crying on her birthday. Their mother couldn’t afford a birthday cake, and instead, had only been able to bring home a nicer loaf of bread.

_Upon hearing Becca’s wails, Bucky sauntered down to the grocer and perused through the produce. He had been able to distract the cute brunette behind the counter by flirting with her while he managed to slip a few precious fruits into his pockets. He’d always had good luck with girls his age, practically having any dame he wanted wrapped around his finger._

_As soon as he left the store, he took off down the sidewalk, weaving in and out of passers-by, shouting various forms of ‘sorry’ and ‘coming through!’._

_He bolted past various convenience shops, thrift stores, and apartment complexes on his way home, until he finally reached the crackling and crumbling building he and his best friend called home._

_Bucky ran up the creaky stairs of the apartment building, careful to avoid the rusty nail sticking out from the third step. If they couldn’t even afford a simple birthday cake, there’s no way his family would be able to afford a trip to the doctor’s office for a tetanus shot. He finally approached the third floor, where his family’s apartment was._

_He wiped the mischievous grin off his face before strolling into the apartment. If his mother found out what he had done, there’s no telling what kind of punishment he would receive. He opened the door to see his mother cooking dinner in the tiny makeshift kitchen._

_She smiled at him, making the lines in her face deepen._

_“Welcome home, James. Supper is almost ready,” she said, the exhaustion in her tone apparent._

_He nodded in affirmation and made his way towards Rebecca’s room. He hoped it wouldn’t be another night of bland rice and boiled beef. He shuddered at the thought of the nearly tasteless food._

_He knocked on her bedroom door before entering. He waited a moment and didn’t hear a sound, so he opened the door and proceeded with caution. The room revealed his little sister lying on her bed, her tear-stained face smushed into the pillow. He gingerly sat down on the bed, taking care not to upset her any further._

_“Psst. Becca. Hey Becks, wake up!”_

_Rebecca grumbled a response that sounded close enough to ‘not sleeping’. She sat up and rubbed her eyes of any dried tears._

_“What do you want, James?” She asked, still in a foul mood._

_A wicked smile grew on his face as he shoved his hands into his pockets. Rebecca’s eyes lit up like Christmas lights at the sight of the tangy fruits pulled from her brother’s pockets. She gasped and clung to Bucky’s arm._

_“James!” She yelled in a whisper, astounded at the sight before them._

_He snickered, knowing that she knew damn well no one could afford a splurge purchase such as fruits. He held a finger to his lips as he peeled one of the navel oranges. The sweet, tangy smell of the fresh produce ignited their senses as it drifted through the air. Rebecca sniffed the air and let out an exaggerated sigh as she perfected the dreamy look on her face. The two laughed._

_He handed the first wedge to her and removed one for himself._

_“It’ll be our little secret,” he said as he popped the fruit piece into his mouth._

_The pieces of orange peel began to pile up in Bucky’s lap as they nearly finished off the first fruit. Bucky’s eyes widened and he looked like a deer in headlights as he heard their mother pad down the carpeted hallway. Her knuckle rapped on the door._

_“Kids! Go wash up, dinner is ready.” She called through the thin wooden door._

_Both children let out their own response in acknowledgement, letting their mother know they’d be right out. The two kids looked to each other again, delving into a fit of laughter once their mother walked away. Bucky took out the remaining oranges and set them on top of Rebecca’s bedside table._

_“They’ll be safe here for now. I imagine they won’t last long, but Ma shouldn’t be wandering around your room looking for oranges anyways.” He quipped._

_Rebecca grinned and stood up from her bed, wrapping her small frame around her older brother. He smiled and hugged her back just as tightly._

_“Happy birthday, Becks.”_

He remembered the event like it was just yesterday. It was one of the few memories from his young adolescenthood that stuck so strongly in his brain. Even in his time in the army, before Hydra messed with his brain, that was always one of his favorite memories with his sister. Once he was deployed, the availability of sweet treats dropped from rare to damn-near nonexistent.

On one of his last nights on United States soil, the commanding officer of his squadron put together a small feast for the 107th. It wasn’t anything incredibly special, seeing as how rations were already scarce as it was, but it boosted morale and allowed the men to have one last hoorah.

_With Gabe Jones on his left and Dum Dum Dugan on his right, Bucky was allowed one more happy night as an American soldier. Most of the men were discussing their lives back in whichever city they’d come from. Many mentioned the dames they had left behind and planned on marrying upon their return._

_The men of the 107th chowed down and practically demolished the food placed in front of them. Only God knew what kind of sustenance they would be supplied with on the battlefield. Towards the end of the night, some sort of pastry covered in brown sugar was brought out. The men cheered like it was the last time they’d ever see the highly sought-after treat. For some of them, it would be._

_Small plates of the treat were being passed around to everyone, making sure that everyone had a plate. Gabe Jones handed him one._

_“Here, Barnes. This one’s yours.”_

_Bucky shook his head and held his hand up in front of him, declining the sugary dessert. He never did enjoy sweets._

_“I’ll pass. Hand it to one of the others.” He said, eyeing a small bowl of fruit that was placed upon the table a short while ago._

_Jones shrugged and handed the plate to Dum Dum Dugan, who happily tucked into it. Bucky reached for an orange on the very top of the pile in the bowl. He tossed it into the air briefly and caught it as it came back down, a soft smile on his face._

Even though Bucky had been free from Hydra’s torture for quite some time now, his mind was still foggy sometimes. He would have his days where the sight of a familiar landmark or the smell of a particular food would spark an incredibly vivid memory.

He would also have days where he’d only be able to remember a feeling or emotion, but not the memory linked to it.

He’s stumbled upon this event any time he would eat anything with excess sugar. Not only would he physically recoil at the taste of the sickeningly sweet food, but his head would immediately start pounding. As soon as a single ounce of sugar hit his tongue, it would begin to feel like a thousand tiny needles were being pushed into his skull.

The pain only got worse on his bad days.

The reminiscence of the Soldier would confuse him and he’d forget who he was. The memories linked with the sugary taste were too much for his scarred brain to handle.

The sudden flashbacks were too overwhelming, and would often leave him on the floor, gasping and panicking.

 _“James!”_ A little girl’s face. Her laugh. He couldn’t place it.

 _“Grab my hand!”_ A blue suit. A shield with a star.

 _“Mission report. December 16th, 1991.”_ A red book. Mind-numbing pain. And then nothing.

There were so many memories. Too many to keep count of. Too many to remember all at once. Not enough surfacing to remind him of who he is, but plenty enough to haunt his dreams with who he _was_.

**Author's Note:**

> Y’all bear with me, I haven’t written anything relating to fics in a HOT MINUTE.


End file.
